M.O.P. Miscellaneous 4 Alarm Blaze Lil Fame: Seventy-five Raised on a strip called here brotha hill Where guns pop and cops get killed This is the place where paranoya Destroyin niggas cash cases mo try to flash they lawyers Were losin it Four fives and knives we be movin wit Caught up in the things that the street game confused you wit Were provin it Let it be known if retaliation Home-skillet - its on That rap nigga bust a cap nigga flat nigga Open up your back nigga Rosewood black nigga First family gone brawl Its presidents resident, and Im the first dog You know the M.O.P status In the history of crime and rap we some the baddest Word to the mommy Any fool try me Get hit wit the Llama Fuck cuminana Chorus - Teflon and Lil Fame: 2X Its a 4 alarm blaze Everybody post up next to the stage Come on Youre all welcome to hells roadway First family style Buck ass wild What ya say Billy Danze: Get ya man on the jack soldier Grip your mac soldier FIRST FAMILY Were back soldier And we have swam through the Brownsville sewers The last on the line of our kind CRIME DOERS Burkowitz MOB STYLE Spit fire from my hammer like I wasnt Gods child Crucify me - but dont deny me Or get slit bitch you couldnt slip nothin by me Try me and Ill pop shots like Im supposed to Im from the field where the covers are unnoticable Ive noticed a few niggas wantin my head Used my smarts and my secret all are firin lead (Fire ya lead) With all intentions of droppin a body Im usually nervous so Im flinchin when I enter the party THE BROWNSVILLE NECTAR That bullshit Just when you thought it was safe I flipped and hit em wit more shit Chorus 2X: Teflon: Introducin the best kept secret Its no sweet shit I sleep wit green beret Blaze enemies frequent I speak wit authority (Black) Perhaps through four to be Cap quarterly blazed till its quiet and orderly The gunsmoke make son soak The smoke run through the barrel until the gun choke Raised cold-hearted and deadly Survive wit a nickel-plated tool and jewels old-timer done fed me Keep my grip steady Squeeze till they drop off Make sure all other guns are popped off as heavy Blowin some high-tech shit Through your projects Makin whatever was in my way easy to di-tect I wrecks guys Over money gone Saratoga son be in a Columbian necktie We dont respects by Half-ass niggas Blast niggas Gas niggas who wont blast The sect die All: 2X Just when you thought it was safe The mad shell posse hit you off wit another taste Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh) Uh (Uh ) Uh (Uh) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Yeah (Yeah) Jay-Z: Yeah, uh-huh, what the fuck Two asked quick for bastards to step to Leave wounds too drastic for rescue When I rock jewels it aint to impress you What the fuck niggas commentin on my shit fo Im real - how you think I got rich ho? Pack steel - aint afraid to let a clip go I got enough paper to get low Come back when the shit blow over get the dough over Huh wit the Rover snatch the gat from the clip holder Rip through ya shoulder bitch its Jay-hovah Im too right wit it, too tight wit it You light witted but if youre feel ya nice nigga spit it Who am I? JAY-Z MOTHAFUCKA Do or die IN BROWNSVILLE MOTHAFUCKA Blocka, rocka, M.O.P collabo Front on us and gats blow ya know? Chorus: 2X |
Videos
|
All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes only.
Copyright © 2007-2009 LyricWorld.com, LoiNhac.com
© 2009 lyricworld.com, loinhac.com are two of a family of companies in the LmVN Group.